To Forge in Steel
by QueenOfTheEyesores
Summary: The Starks travel to King's Landing to join their House with the ruling Baratheons, but as a young Arya Stark manoeuvres her way around Southron life, and develops a close friendship with the future king, chaos erupts in the capital and destroys the way of life she knew and loved. Prince Gendry AU. Will continue if there's interest.
1. Gray Skies: Prologue

**AN: **Hello there, I'm posting this mostly out of boredom because it's an idea I've been toying with for quite some time, it's nothing too original (there's plenty of Prince Gendry AUs out there, most of which are really great!) but I miss writing/posting new stories so if there's any interest in this I'll continue. So let me know if you want to read more.

* * *

Gray Skies (Prologue)

Ned Stark and Robert Baratheon stood overlooking the courtyard of Winterfell. The Welcome Feast was long over and it was late in the night but by some otherworldly miracle, Robert was not yet too drunk. Staring over the railing with his old friend at his side, Ned watched his children play in the yard below: Arya and Rickon were watching from the fence as Robb and Jon pracitced swordplay while Bran strung his bow and arrow.

"If my son were here," Robert began with a boisterous laugh "He'd be down there beating your sons to a pulp."

"I believe he's off with Sansa." Ned said. He'd noticed the glances between Prince Joffrey and his daughter and, according to Arya, Sansa hadn't shut up about the boy since his arrival. Though truth be told, there was something about him that Ned didn't quite care for, but he held his tongue, for now.

"No, not Joff, my other boy, Gendry; he favours the war hammer, you know." Robert said. "The boy takes after his father." He smiled. "He'd taken ill right before we left. He was disappointed he couldn't make the trip." Ned nodded,

He'd heard much of Robert's boasting of his son Gendry. The boy was to be the future King of the Realm, and though he'd never seen the boy he'd heard he resembled Robert in every way. "It's a shame he'll never get to meet Jon." Ned mused sadly. "They would've gotten along well, I think."

"Oh right, which one's the bastard again?" Robert asked. Ned sighed and pointed to Jon as he helped Bran string his bow. The young boy smiled up at his half-brother and Jon tousled his hair as he helped Bran to line up his shot. Robb stood by letting Rickon test the weight of the wooden play swords that hung on the wall.

Bran loosed the arrow and missed his shot causing Arya to laugh loudly. Jon patted Bran on the shoulder and prepared him for another shot then turned his attention back to Robb. The two began their duel again.

Ned watched as they fought, proud of both of his boys at the same time. He knew Jon would do well at the Wall, just as Robb would flourish as the future Lord of Winterfell. But he felt a pang of guilt at the fact that so much like he and Robert had been separated in their youth, now these two boys might never see each other again.

"He's off to the Wall within the month, they're so short on men up there and Catelyn wishes him to move along. Arya will miss him terribly..." Ned said sadly, but he was interrupted by his friend.

"I didn't come here to talk about the Wall, Ned." Robert said. He hated when Ned badgered him about sending more men up North.

"Why did you come here?" Ned asked. He added a "Your Grace." quickly at the end. Robert coughed and belched and straightened his stance.

"Because, Ned, it's time to do what we couldn't years ago."

"Which is?" Ned asked. Robert smirked at his friend,

"I have a son. You have a daughter. We'll join our houses." Ned stared at him.

"You have two sons." Ned said, for lack of a better answer.

Robert was surprised at his friend's response. "Well, yes I do." He said.

"So which one do you suggest marries my daughter?" Ned asked.

Robert seemed to paused for a moment, as if he hadn't truly considered his own question. "Well, my son Gendry of course." The reassurance in his voice grew as he spoke. By the end he was nodding as if it was his most brilliant plan. "Your Sansa will make him a fine queen and you and I can retire together as tired old men."

Ned sighed as Robert clapped him on the back and laughed heartily.

Down in the yard Arya grabbed a wooden sword and closed in on her younger brother. Robb and Jon talked in the corner of the yard, unaware of their siblings activities. Meanwhile, the hollow sound of clashing play swords echoed through the yard until Bran's back was firm against the stable's walls. Ned's eyes narrowed in on his children as he watched Bran struggle to meet her attacks. Arya's feet moved too quickly for her brother to keep up. She almost had Bran beat when Ned put an end to it.

"Robb!" Ned called down into the yard, his son who was now laughing at the fight in front of him stopped when his father called down to him. "Don't you suppose it's time your sister went off to bed?" Robb nodded and shot a look to Jon, the two of them snuck up behind Arya and grabbed her under her arms and legs and hauled her, kicking and howling, off to her room.

"Who was that one?" Robert asked, his belly bouncing as he laughed.

Ned sighed, "That's my younger daughter, Arya. You met her earlier." He watched as she continued to fight Jon as he carried her over his shoulder to her room. "She takes after Lyanna." He added sadly. Robert smiled at the girl.

"You don't say." He chuckled. "Tell you what Ned, I'll double my offer. I've got two sons. You've got two daughters. What do ya say?"

Still, Ned hesitated. It wasn't that he didn't like the idea. He'd heard good things about Prince Gendry. And Sansa had already taken a liking to Joffrey, though Ned felt uneasy about the boy. And he supposed it would be difficult to turn down the offer of his friend, and his king.

"Who do you suggest marries whom?" He asked, still mulling over the idea in his head.

Robert scratched his beard, then after a moment, waved Ned away. "That's years down the road. We'll let my sons decide. For now let's celebrate!" Robert said as he clasped his arm around Ned's shoulder. "The Starks and the Baratheons, just as it was always meant to be."


	2. The Crooked Kind

**AN: **Hello lovely readers! And thanks for such a great response to the Prologue I posted, I will definitely do my best to continue this story! I'll try to post once a week, having said that I like to have the story (or at least a good chunk of it) done before posting so I know where the plot is going/can make changes/include foreshadowing and insure continuity, etc. as of now I have a rough idea where i want to take it and a few scenes already types up. I like to post long chapters though so while it might take a while to get them up I'll do my best to post frequently.

**Reviews are the best thing you can give me**, I love feedback, both critical and complimentary, and I want to make sure as many of you are enjoying it as much as I am. So please review! Whether it's words or a paragraph, the love is always felt on my end. Plus I like to go through and reply to comments so the more you write the better for me and my writing!

Also **to the guest who left a comment about Prince Gendry AUs,** I searched through my favourites and found a few of my... well favourites lol. Not all of them are Prince Gendry AUs but they're all DEFINITELY worth a read and you can find them all on this site. The title's are:

- What Do We Say to The God of Death? (top billing, all time favourite, this woman is an artist show her respect and love)  
- Five Times Arya and Gendry Didn't Kiss, And One Time They Did (just good hard fluffiness)  
- Den of Beasts (Ser Gendry post ADWD)  
- No One and Someone (Prince Gendry ficlet)  
- Moth to a Flame (Prince Gendry AU)  
- Incompatible Worlds (don't really remember it tbqh but it's in my favourites and I'm gonna give it another read over soon so I'll reco it here as well)  
- No Featherbed for Me (Prince Gendry AU. **this one's on AO3** but definitely head over there if you feel like slowly, painfully ripping your heart out of your chest one cell at a time)

I should mention I haven't read much on the site lately, so these recommendations are older and fail to take into consideration any new posts in either the asoiaf or got category. I'm sure there's also a bunch of great new stuff out there! Alright I'm gonna stop now because i could blab on for-literally-ever. Enjoy!

* * *

The Crooked Kind

Sansa thanked the gods her lady mother had requested a caravan for them to travel to King's Landing in. It made the whole trip more comfortable and their arrival that much more regal, like when the royal family had come to Winterfell. Though their caravan was much smaller than there's had been.

She glanced out the window at the giant red castle looming over the rest of the city. They were at the highest peak of the highest hill leading up to the city but still the Red Keep towered over them.

"Mother, where will be staying in the Red Keep?" Sansa asked, her eyes wide in awe as she tried to take in the scene of King's Landing. She turned away from the window and went to her mother's side. Catelyn grabbed a brush from the nearby table and began running it through her daughter's thick, Tully hair.

"I suppose we'll be in the Tower of the Hand with your father, while he works with King Robert." Catelyn answered tiredly. She was grateful for Sansa's enthusiasm at arriving in the city. Gods know the child would flourish among the fine society of King's Landing, she only wished she didn't have quite so many questions to which Catelyn had no answer.

She'd been happy to keep herself tucked up safely in Winterfell, away from the politics and aggressive social scene of the court. But their time in the capital could be avoided no longer. It had been inevitable the moment Robert Baratheon had uttered the fateful words to Ned five years ago: "I have a son. You have a daughter. We'll join our houses."

Catelyn could hardly contain a scoff when Ned recounted to her how he'd reminded his old friend that in fact the Starks had _two _daughters to the Baratheon king's _two _sons.

It was all well in fine for Sansa, she was a northern flower just waiting to bloom in the heat of such a vibrant southron city. It was Arya who's future kept Catelyn up at night. The girl was restless, and flighty, and aggressive, and wonderfully strong willed. A northerner through and through. So much like...

"Mother, will you braid my hair in the southron way?" Sansa begged her mother, for the fourth time that morning. Catelyn shook away her thoughts and continued brushing her daughter's hair.

"Sansa, you'll have the rest of your life to live like a southron lady, but until then, you're a Stark. And Starks are northerners. A simple braid will do." Catelyn said.

"But it's so plain." Sansa complained. After seeing Cersei Lannister's lavish hairstyles and gowns the girl had fallen in love with the luscious southron style. It upset Catelyn, how quickly the girl would seem to shun her northern heritage for the frills of the south, but she braided her daughter's hair without a word of critique, only encouragement.

"A plain braid for a natural beauty, Sansa. All the complicated plaits and twists of those southron hairstyles just distract from the flaws." She tied the braid off with a green ribbon and patted Sansa on the shoulder. "You'll shine all on your own."

"Queen Cersei doesn't have any flaws." Sansa mumbled as she returned to her perch by the window. "Besides," Her daughter continued as she daydreamed about her upcoming days within the Keep's fiery walls. "It's not my hair we need to worry about. Arya probably looks a complete mess right now."

Catelyn frowned. It was hard to ignore the truth in that statement. She peered out the door of the caravan and looked at the mounted men as they trod on towards the city. Up ahead she could see her lord husband riding up ahead with Vayon Poole. Jory and Rodrik Cassel were a few horses behind them.

"Ned!" Catelyn shouted, attempting to be quiet as the caravan bumped along the King's Road. "Ned!"

A few heads turned at her shouts and her eyes met with Jory Cassel. He slowed his pace until he neared the caravan door,

"Can I help you, my Lady?" He asked.

"I need to speak with Lord Stark." She said, hoping Jory would be able to find her a horse so she could ride over to her lord husband herself. Jory took a different approach.

"Lord Stark!" He shouted over the din of the travelers. Ned, as well as several other mounts, turned around to see the source of the disturbance.

"It's alright Jory, I just need my horse brought round so I can ask Ned if he's seen Arya." She explained quietly. Jory nodded and for a moment Catelyn hoped he might ride around to the back of the caravan and procure her horse for her. Instead he cupped his hands around his mouth and continued to yell.

"My Lord, Lady Stark would like to know if you've seen Lady Arya." He shouted. Ned shook his head and rerouted his horse in the direction of the caravan.

"What are you shouting about?" He asked, staring back and forth from Jory to Catelyn.

"Well, my Lord, I was trying to ask-"

"Ned," Catelyn said, cutting Jory off, "We'll be arriving at the Red Keep within the hour... Where is Arya?"

* * *

The men were out riding on their horses, galloping and frolicking and laughing so loudly it punctured through the walls of the stuffy old caravan and Arya was fed up with it all. It was bad enough that she never got to play with her brothers anymore in Winterfell while they all rode around and practiced with their swords while she was stuck inside with Sansa and their septa doing stupid needlework and whatnot. But now she was about to be stuck inside the Red Keep for months with no chance of sneaking out to play while her brothers stayed in Winterell, the home she had never wanted to leave. It would be months of curtseying and cooing about stitching and "Well done, Sansa." and "Yes, that's a lovely gown, Sansa." and "Arya, why can't you be more like Sansa?"

It hadn't even begun and she was already sick of it.

So when he lady mother was resting and Sansa's head was pushed so far out the caravan window it was likely it would be stuck there for eternity, Arya snuck out. She found her horse and rode alongside her father and his men. He didn't seem to mind, he just smiled at her in that sad way he always did, like he wasn't quite looking at her, but at someone else, then he continued about his business.

She guided her horse off the King's Road along the banks at the edge of the forest, she swung her legs as she straddled the horse, trying to enjoy her last few hours in breeches. Arya had managed to escape the confining skirts of a gown for as long as possible but she knew that with King's Landing came those stupid courtly get ups. She could fight tooth and nail but her lady mother was frightfully strong and always determined to get Arya to at least resemble a lady, despite her squirms and protests.

She saw a few men racing ahead and joined them, nudging her horse gently in the sides to get him to shoot off down the hill. She pulled ahead of the others so fast she was sure all they saw were the wisps of her hair as she flew past them. And then she was alone.

A girl and her horse stood, motionless in front of the Gate of the Gods. The gate lay open and waiting for the party that would be pouring in within the hour. After all, this was the day the Sansa would meet her husband, the king. It was a historic day, a great day. Arya scoffed, Sansa could have her stupid song for all she cared. She would've been fine if they'd left her back at Winterfell, but she'd been dragged along on this trip instead, though she'd done her fair share of kicking and screaming.

"Arya Stark," Her mother had said in a tone she used only when scolding her children, or anyone who's behavior she didn't particularly enjoy. "You are a lady of four and ten. You cannot pretend to be a little girl any longer." Arya rolled her eyes every time her mother said this. It wasn't as if she looked it four and ten.

She was still rake thin and hadn't a 'womanly' trait to cling to. She was still as flat and bony as Bran, and he was a boy of twelve. She was pale skinned and horse faced, as everyone so often liked to remind her. Her hair was a tangled, mess of thick brown knots. She mightn't have been a little girl anymore, she was smarter, stronger, faster, but nothing about her was vaguely ladylike. She was stuck in an in-between and no one seemed to have a place for her. And now they were throwing a wolf in with the lions... and the stags.

She was so angry that her father had taken up the king's offer to be the new Hand. Although, according to her sister, who had heard from their lady mother, there wasn't much of a way to refuse the leader of the realm. She was also angry at her brothers, who were allowed to stay home. "There must always be a Stark in Winterfell." Her mother had said, and Arya understood that, but why couldn't she be one of those Starks?

As her horse strolled through the Street of Steel no one seemed to notice or question the solitary girl, trotting through the city. They continued about their daily lives. What did it matter to them if some high lord was arriving with his family and a couple hundred guards? It wouldn't put food on their tables to gawk at every noble who road through past their shops.

She continued until she reached the stables, she tucked her horse away in an empty stall and hid out with her, concealed by hay and hooves until the sun was setting behind the monstrous red castle.

Arya didn't want to meet the king and queen. She remembered them well enough from when they'd visited Winterfell only two years ago. Queen Cersei, so cold and judging of everything Arya loved. Her home, her family, the North. And King Robert, a belligerent drunk. She remembered one night, she'd been leaving the dining hall and she'd bumped into the king. She'd made quick apologies and tried to escape but he stopped her. He'd had this glassy look in his eyes as he stared at her,

"It's unbelievable." He'd said.

"What is?" Arya asked. She remember cringing at the stink on his breath and reeling back as he ran his fingers along a strand of her hair.

"I'm so sorry I could never save you," The King slurred "But I've always loved you."

Jory had found them out there and guided the king back to the dining hall then escorted Arya to her room.

"The king gets too deep in his cups," He rambled as Arya told him what had happened. "Old battle wounds tend to open up when that happens." Jory had told her not to worry and that she wasn't in any trouble and that the next day the king wouldn't even remember what had happened.

But Arya noticed King Robert always looked at her that way. It was like the sad smile she caught on her father's face whenever she laughed with her brothers. King Robert would look at her sadly, or in confusion, or with anger in his eyes. It made Arya certain that she didn't want to be in the same room as him ever again.

No one seemed to want to answer when she asked who it was that the king and her father saw when they saw her. No matter who she asked people would shy away from the answer, or change the subject, or tell her to stop asking so many questions. One day she asked Old Nan and it was the only time that crazy old lady told a story that Arya cared about. It was the only story of Old Nan's that ever managed to give Arya nightmares. But that was stupid, she looked nothing like her dead Aunt Lyanna. She was supposed to be beautiful, that was Sansa, that wasn't Arya.

She waited until the sun had set and the stables were quiet and then, she ran.

* * *

Robert watched from the steps of the Red Keep as his old friend and his family walked up towards him. Ned knelt down and bowed his head and the trail of men behind him followed suit. He waved his hand and his friend stood up to face him. He smiled,

"You've got fat." he said. Ned looked him up and down and smirked. Robert laughed, "Come here." He pulled his friend into a hug and slapped him on the back. He looked over to Catelyn and embraced her too, "Cat." He smiled. Then he walked over to the girl with her eyes cast down to the ground. She looked like a miniature Catelyn Tully from her younger days.

"And this must be your Sansa," He glanced back at his son Joffrey. "You've certainly grown over the last few years." The girl was too shy and modest to look up at him. "Beautiful, just like your mother." He said. Only then did she blush and beam up at him.

"Thank you, Your Grace." She said.

Robert stopped and looked around, chuckling. Behind him his family stood in a line, dutifully.

Cersei stood in her usually gowns of red and gold, Lannister colours, as if she'd never married a Baratheon at all. Joffrey stood next to her, his eyes passing dismissively over the Starks, resting for a moment on Sansa before glancing and letting his face rest somewhere between a cringe and a smile. And Gendry stood to his right, standing tall and firm, nodding and bowing his welcome to Lord and Lady Stark. Myrcella and Tommen stood on either side of the ends, silent and smiling.

He turned back to Ned, and glanced at the three smiling Starks, then back at his own brood, then to Ned again, clapping his hands together expectantly.t "Aren't we missing someone?"

* * *

She'd spent the afternoon wandering the city. She'd already discovered hiding places and what might've been a passageway outside the city's walls but eventually she overheard some guards discussing 'the missing Stark girl' and knew that it was time to hide.

Now she was tucked under the only weirwood in the Red Keep's godswood. She knew she was in trouble now, she could hear guards rushing around the castle and was sure she would get yelled at by her lady mother later tonight. Arya could just picture Sansa smiling demurely at the dining hall table with the queen doting on her. And her parents smiling proudly at their little queen-to-be. If she'd been there she would've just been a disappointment.

Besides this is what she was meant to do, going on adventures and sneaking and snooping through the streets. Not bowing and smiling and holding her tongue.

She placed her hand on the bark of the tree, feeling the mixture of roughness and sticky sap under her palm. Then she sunk to the ground and stared up at it, so big and majestic, thought nothing compared to the one back home.

She let herself fall onto her back and tucked her knees up to her chest, then she stared up at the stars. She could hardly see them through he heart tree's red leaves. Not like in Winterfell. At night there it got so dark, so cold and quiet, that the stars practically screamed at you. They were begging to be seen and impossible to miss all at the same time. And in Winterfell no one cared if Arya snuck out of the dining hall to practice in the yard or to disappear to the hot springs before bed time. In the North she was free.

"Everyone's looking for you, you know." She tiled her head back and saw a boy standing in front of her. He looked like he was upside down until she shifted herself around and took in the proper sight of him.

He had charcoal hair that hung around light blue eyes. He was covered in dirt and ash and had a leather apron hanging from his chest to his knees. He looked young, she thought, must be the blacksmith's apprentice.

"They've got the castle guards on alert." He said, moving towards her. "They called off the feast and everything. Everyone's been out searching for hours."

"They must not be looking that hard." She grumbled "I've been sitting here all night." She eyed the boy carefully. "Are you going to turn me in?"

His eyes bore down on her, equally as careful. "I don't think I will." He said finally. She sat up straighter,

"Why not?" She asked.

"Because for now I'd rather stay and talk to you." He said, taking a place next to her under the weirwood tree. Arya scoffed at him and stood up to walk away.

"Why?" She grumbled.

"Why'd you run away?" He asked.

"What do you care?" She said, glaring at him.

"I'm curious." He said. And he was smiling at her in this stupid way. It made her uncomfortable. She began circling around the tree, her hand tracing over the bark as she walked and talked. And he stood and followed.

"Who are you?" She asked. She could hear him smirking.

"And I guess you're curious too." He said, not answering her question. She rolled her eyes and answered him.

"I'd rather be doing other things." She said with a shrug. He followed her around the tree, just trying to catch up to her.

"Like what?" He asked.

"Like exploring, or practicing swordplay in the training yard. Anything really. I didn't want to come here to begin with. I'd rather be with my brothers in Winterfell, everything is perfect there. I'd rather be back there right now."

"Things aren't so bad here." The boy said, "I could show you. Some of it might even keep _you_ entertained."

"I could find them on my own." She said.

"Nah you couldn't." He said.

"And what makes you think that?" She asked.

"You had free run of the castle all day and yet you end up in the godswood?" He challenged. She shrugged,

"It reminds me of home." She said, staring up the sky and the tops of the trees. They were harder to see here, but if she squinted she could pretend they were the same stars they had in Winterfell.

"You really miss it don't you?" He asked. She nodded. It was a small nod, but he saw it. Then her eyes averted back to the ground and she continued her course around the tree.

"And I don't want to see the king." She said.

"Why not?" He asked. His tone wasn't judgmental like she thought it would be. But still, she hesitated before answering.

"I don't want to see any of them," She complained. It was a half-truth, "I hate it here, everything in the south is so restricted, from the walls on the city to the corsets on the ladies. Back in Winterfell I can run around like this all day long, not a care in the realm."

"That's hardly the royal family's fault. You blame all that on King Robert?" He asked.

"Yes." She decided quickly. "he's the one who dragged my family down here, making my father Hand of the King, making my sister marry that stupid prince. I don't even know why they brought me along," She said, throwing her hands in the air and pacing around the garden. "No, of course I do." She said, stopping in place. "They're trying to reign me in. To make me different, like her."

"Like her?" He asked, his eyes following every step of the wild girl in front of him.

"Like Sansa." Arya whispered.

"Your sister?" He asked.

"Yeah, Sansa." Arya said, "Everyone says she's perfect, that I should be more like her."

"Oh, I saw her." The boy said, "She was there to greet the king on the steps today." He shrugged, "She was alright."

"You must've been standing really far away." Arya muttered. Everyone always loved Sansa best.

"I had a fairly good view." He said, smiling.

He'd seen Sansa, in all her supposed perfection, smiling at him and his brother as everyone was introduced and reintroduced on the steps of the Red Keep. He'd seen how she pretended to be all innocent and then would sneak coy looks at Joffrey. And they way she gaped at Cersei's every move.

"She's nice enough, but nothing too special." He assured her. As he spoke Arya wormed her way back to the weirwood, resting her palm against the sap covered bark before clinging on and walking around the trunk. He followed along behind her. She scoffed and shook her head, taking no notice of his movements.

"You don't know what you're talking about, stupid." She said and he could hear a slight laugh in her voice. He liked that sound. But she still wouldn't look up at him.

"I know what it's like to have people want you to be someone you're not." He offered.

"They want me to be a proper lady, to wear dresses and speak nicely and sew with needles. But they raised me to be free, and to fight. They raised me to be strong and tough so I could survive the winter, like a wolf. And then they bring me down here to this stifling hot city! I can barely stand it!"

She stopped her steps and turned around, the boy's stopped abruptly behind her and took a step back, it was the only way for their eyes to meet. _Too tall to be just a_ boy, Arya thought.

"What could you possible know about all that? Aren't you a blacksmith?" She asked. .

"I want to be." He said, unable to take his eyes off her.

She pulled her hand away from the bark and wiped them together, laughing as they stuck to each other. She pried them apart and ran her hands along the dusty ash of his apron. He watched her as she ran her hands along his chest, the movement so innocent in her mind, then she smiled at her blackened hands and made a print on the tree between them. He did the same.

She smiled sadly at her small hand print next to his large one. Then her eyes returned tot the stranger's.

"And what do _people_ want you to be?" She was actually looking at him now, and not pulling away. They stood together under the heart tree.

Suddenly, his throat felt dry. "They want me to be King." He answered. He hated how quickly the hint of a smile dropped from her eyes.

"What?" She asked. Her voice sounded so small now. He immediately regretted telling her, or not telling her right away. He scratched his head and stepped out from under the tree.

"They, uh, they want me to be King, one day." He said.

"Arya?" Both their heads turned at the sudden disruption. Ned Stark was standing at the entrance to the godswood staring at his daughter and the prince standing under the red and white tree. It was like being transported back in time, as if he was watching Robert and Lyanna standing under the weirwood at the wedding that never was.

Ned watched as his daughter turned back to the prince, raised her tiny, ineffectual hands and began pounding small punches against his chest. When he smileded at her she spread out her hands and pushed him to the ground, he landed with a thud at the base of the tree and chuckled.

"Arya." Ned said, looking tired but not surprised by his daughter's actions. Arya turned back to her father and ran over to him, leaving the Gendry on the floor of the godswood. "I'm sorry I ran away." She said, then she took off running again.

At the end of the hall, she was reigned in by her septa and escorted to her room and only once she was out of sight did Ned turn back to the prince in the godswood. He offered him a hand to help him up.

"I'm sorry about my daughter." Ned said as Gendry dusted himself off.

"Don't apologize, Lord Stark." Gendry said "She's everything you warned she would be."

"And then some, I fear." Ned mumbled.

"She doesn't know, about the arrangement?" Gendry asked. Ned shook his head,

"Sansa and her mother know, but it was difficult enough getting Arya to King's Landing without the impending doom of marriage hanging over her."

"Impending doom?" Gendry said.

"Her view, not mine." Ned assured him. He clapped his hand on the boy's shoulder and they walked out of the godswood together.

"That's good," Gendry nodded, contemplating this fate. "Don't tell her. I'll tell her, when I'm ready, when she knows me better." Gendry decided, his mind lost in thought.

"Am I to assume this means you've made your choice?" He asked as he the prince walked out of the Godswood.

"Lord Stark, I think it's obvious to both of us that choice was never really there."

Ned watched him carefully, unsure of his meaning. But Prince Gendry just smiled at him, as if the great secret was so obvious.

"My father's not always a clever man, but it certainly seems he had this in mind when he first mentioned the idea to you all those years ago. He doesn't talk abut her often but I've heard him mention the name Lyanna-"

Gendry paused as Ned Stark's breath hitched. The two men continued walking.

"Once or twice." He finished.

"You think this was all Robert's grand plan all along?" Lord Stark asked.

"I think it was in his mind. But not only that, Sansa and Joffrey knew each other so long ago, that took away some of the choice, and once I stepped into that godswood tonight... none of the rest really mattered." He chuckled.

Ned's face looked pale as he sighed tiredly and Gendry felt for the man who'd lost two daughters in one day.

"We'll hold off telling her for a while." Gendry decided. "I'd like her to get to know me first, I'd like her to want to know me."

"As you wish," Ned said, "But Prince Gendry,"

"Yes, my lord?"

"Try not to end your next encounter like this one... you have yet to see my daughter with a sword in her hand." Ned Stark warned.


	3. Summer Skeletons

Summer Skeletons

"Those are fine stitches, Sansa." Septa Mordane cooed.

"Yes, very fine stitches, Sansa." Jeyne Poole sang.

"Yes, lovely stitches Sansa!" Myrcella smiled.

Arya rolled her eyes as Sansa blushed and nodded at Myrcella,

"You're work is lovely as well, Princess Myrcella." Sansa replied. That started a whole new round of compliments.

"Yes, m'lady, you're stitches are beautiful, don't you agree Jeyne?" Septa Mordane said.

"Yes I-" Jeyne began, but was cut off by a loud groan from Arya. Their eyes all widened and snapped to her.

"Arya!" The septa began to scold, looking to Princess Myrcella in the hopes that she wasn't too horrified. But the princess' focus was elsewhere.

"My brother's here." She said, jumping up from her chair. The Septa looked slightly appalled by the princess' sudden excitement but held her tongue. Sansa and Jeyne began to whisper and giggle as Prince Gendry approached the ladies.

"Are you sure it's not going to be him?" Jeyne whispered excitedly into Sansa's ear. Sansa lightly elbowed her friend and shook her head with a grin plastered over her face.

"Nothing's written in stone." She whispered back to her friend. She glanced in Arya's direction, the look on her face turning sour. Arya, unsure why she was the object of Sansa's glaring, simply stuck out her tongue and continued with her sewing, suddenly finding it to be the most interesting thing in the room.

It was her final honest attempt at sewing that morning. She'd spent the first few hours of sunlight being wrangled out of bed and into a dress all while enduring her mother's umpteenth hour of scolding. Lady Stark had not been quite as amused as her Lord husband by Arya's little disappearing act. And while Catelyn had yelled and yelled at her daughter, Ned had simply sat there, a strange new tint to his usual tired expression. Arya apologized, though she didn't mean it, and begged for forgiveness, though she wasn't sure she wanted it, and finally she'd promised to be the perfect lady and follow Sansa around for the remainder of the trip, though she didn't intend to keep it.

But still, this morning she sat and pricked her finger again and again with her needle, vowing to make her promise last at least until midmorning to avoid the disappointment in her mother's eyes. She cursed under her breath before sucking away the small bubble of blood on the pad of her finger. She shifted her skirts uncomfortably around her feet, relishing the feel of the breeches she'd managed to sneak on underneath.

Now she kept her head tucked down; she was less than eager to see Westeros' future king, again. Especially in the light of day, when they could both see each other for who they were. Although he'd known exactly who she was when he'd found her in the godswood yesterday. She was the only one who had been deceived and she hated him for it.

"Good morning, ladies." The Prince greeted. "I was just passing by and thought I'd inform you, there's tea and lemoncakes waiting for you all out on the terrace."

Gendry kept shifting his eyes down to Arya, hoping for at least some reaction from her, but she suddenly seemed quite interested in her needlework. He should've told her last night, told her sooner.

"Thank you, Prince Gendry." Septa Mordane said.

"Yes, thank you Prince Gendry." Sansa repeated,

"Yes thank you Prin-" Again Jeyne was cut off.

"Thanks." Arya said with a glare before throwing down her needlework and stomping from the room. Her Septa followed, undoubtedly with a dropped jaw. She could hear Sansa sputtering excuses behind her and then she and Jeyne excused themselves politely.

Arya huffed outside the doorway as her sister, and stupid Jeyne Poole, walked past her, glaring.

"You might think to be more considerate of your hosts, Arya." The Septa reprimanded her. "Especially to the ones who will one day be your king." Septa Mordane left her there to sulk and joined Sansa and Jeyne as they continued to gossip down the way.

Arya stood there fuming for a moment before her attention was diverted elsewhere. She heard laughter behind her and when she turned around and looked back into the hall she found Gendry and his sister smiling at each other as she clapped, and bounced and jumped into his arms. Arya turned away again and found the three ladies in front of her, Sansa cooing about how polite the Prince was while the Septa and Jeyne agreed with girlish squeals.

"So gallant, don't you think?" Jeyne swooned. "And handsome."

"So handsome." Sansa sighed.

"Very handsome." Septa Mordane agreed practically. "And thoughtful of him to think of us and our midmorning tea."

That launched them into another round of giggles and gossip until Arya couldn't take it anymore.

"Great gods! He told us lunch was ready," She growled, "He didn't save the bloody kingdom from starvation."

"I do what I can." A voice behind her said. She groaned and turned around. The Prince was smirking at her once again.

"You do quite well." The septa said, leading the others in a course of curtsies before they all raised their eyes with looks of wild suggestion. The prince pretended not to notice, he just stayed with Arya until they'd disappeared down the steps. Myrcella followed shortly behind, smiling proudly at her brother as she left for the terrace. Once they were alone, Gendry relaxed and looked down at Arya. She was staring out at the gardens, down at her feet, at the the dirt under her nails, anywhere but up at him. He tapped her arm. "Come on," He said, nodding in the direction opposite of the ladies.

"Why would I go anywhere with you?" She said, stepping back and glaring at him. He smiled sadly but quickly regained his composure.

"Because it's either me, or an afternoon of lemoncakes and 'very nice stitches'." He said. "Look, I know you don't like me much at the moment, but I'd like to believe I'm slightly better than the alternative."

Arya narrowed her eyes at him and his annoying smile. "Fine." She grumbled.

She didn't understand this would-be king. No matter how annoyed she was with him, he just smiled at her. What was wrong with him, was he bored or just stupid? Joffrey was nothing like this, he'd hated her the moment he saw her and hadn't done anything to hide his disgust, neither had she.

"Where are we going?" She asked as he led her back through the hall. Though truthfully, she didn't much care. He was right, anything was better than another moment spent discussing needlework or the niceties of Lady Myrcella's gown.

"How would you like to explore the Red Keep?" He asked, turning around in hopes of seeing a smile on her face.

"I did that yesterday." She said, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Well, perhaps there are some places I'd like to show you. Some things you might've missed." He said, leading her down a winding stone staircase.

"Like where?" She asked, stepping into the darkness.

* * *

"This is a dangerous game you're playing, Robert." Ned said carefully. The small council meeting was ending and Ned had waited until each member had left the room before addressing his King in such a way. Truth be told the whole conversation felt untoward, but Ned knew he must bring it up.

He followed his king out to the balcony, below he could see Cersei sitting in the garden, a thorn among the flowers he was sure. He'd had misgivings about the queen as long as he'd known her. And now being closer to her than ever he began to feel the toxic reign she had on the Keep.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Ned." the King said, his eyes fixed off into the distance.

"Arya." Ned said.

And there she was, just below them now. Arya, fidgeting in her skirts as the ladies exited the hall, and there was Prince Gendy. The ladies disappeared off to the side while those two remained in their place. They were talking, though he could practically feel Arya's frustration and resentment from here, as well as the Prince's awkwardness. And then not a second later, they took off together, back into the hall. Ned felt his heart sink deeper in his chest.

Robert stood next to him, beaming down at the young couple.

"Those two seem to be getting along quite well, it would seem." He said, smiling proudly at Ned.

"Robert," He warned, "All due respect, you don't know what you're doing here."

The King ignored his words, "They look good together, my oldest and your young one. They'd make a fine pair. It is up to Gendry in the end, I suppose. Our future king. Though it's no surprise she caught his attention after evading him last night. A smart move on her part."

"It was not her intention to catch your son's attention, she was trying to escape." Ned assured him.

"Well of course she was! She's a Stark!" Robert shouted, slapping Lord Stark on the back. "Willfull and wild, just like the North."

"And it's the North where she belongs." Ned said, quietly. "She was hiding out in the godswood. I found the two of them alone in there last night."

"Is that right?" Robert said, his eyebrow raised suggestively, though his mind seemed to be half-elsehwere already.

"Talking under the heart tree. Seeing them standing there, it was like seeing you and Lyanna." He said carefully, he stepped closer to Robert and placed a hand gently on his shoulder. "I can see why it would be tempting to place them together. You have a son, and I have a daughter, and they both just so happen to resemble... but you'd do best not to overlook other obvious similarities beyond appearances."

The King shoved his friend's hand away and walked to the opposing end of the balcony. Still Ned Stark forced himself to continue, "Arya _is _wilful and wild like her aunt. She has her spirit, she's enchanting and enticing, though she doesn't know it yet. And much like her aunt she can't stand to sit still, or be told to stay that way. And yet you want her to be pinned down to a capital, stuck in a dress and crown to act like your current queen-"

"I intend nothing of the sort!" Robert yelled.

Ned stopped talking immediately and a silence descended between them.

"I only wish..." Ned said carefully, "I only wish that the past does not repeat itself."

"Ned, you're letting your imagination run away from you." Robert said, in a voice much sharper than a simple warning.

"It's not my imagination you need to worry about, it was your son who suggested the idea to me in the first place." He said. "Even your young Prince can see your feeble plans, and he doesn't have the advantage of our knowledge of the past. Neither does Arya! They're bound to repeat our mistakes if we do not-"

"They won't!" The King said, slamming a hand down on the railing. In the garden down below the women stopped their gossip and Queen Cersei raised her eyes up to her husband's caterwauling. "I won't let them." Robert said quietly. "And neither will you."

King Robert turned around and looked Lord Stark in the eye, "I think we can put this matter to rest for now, don't you, Lord Stark?" Without an answer, the King brushed past him.

"As you wish, Your Grace." Ned answered with a sigh.

His eyes swept once more over the garden where the Queen stared up at him, her eyes clear and unblinking._ She hears all_, he thought.

* * *

"Where are you taking me?" Arya asked as they circled down a winding staircase. The light was dimming as they descended into the dark. And while Arya knew she should've felt frightened, like Sansa might've, or indecent, like her mother would've felt, disappearing into a darkened corridor, unsupervised with a boy, all she felt was elated.

She couldn't see anything more than Gendry's back on the steps in front of her, but in the darkness was excitement, and adventure, and the unknown, and it led to somewhere that wasn't the Red Keep with it's court and it's banquets and it's perfect stitches.

"The stairs get a bit tricky." Gendry said. "Watch you step."

No sooner did he say it than Arya felt herself crash against his back. She grimaced in the dark and felt as his hands wrapped behind himself to hold her.

"You okay?" He said, turning to face her and making no effort to move away.

Arya's breathing steadied from the slip and she straightened up, her hand on Gendry's shoulder slid down to his chest. Then she pushed him against the wall and strode on past him down the stairs into the darkness.

"Perfectly fine." She smiled, he couldn't see it but he felt it.

* * *

Gendry listened for her footsteps but he couldn't hear any. Meanwhile, his own feet made their usual graceless _clomp, clomp, clomp, _as he followed around her.

"What's down here?" She asked. His eyes flicked around in the darkness, trying to follow her voice, but the sounds reverberated off the walls, confusing him even more.

He scratched his head, "Uh, a bunch of stuff. One way leads to the dungeons, another to some of the really old chambers Aegon Targaeryen used for his meetings."

"Anything else?" She asked.

"Yes." He nodded, though she couldn't see him do it. "Over here."

"Where?" She asked, and he could hear her standing right behind him.

"Um, give me your hand." He held his out and felt her press her small hand roughly into his. He took it and placed it gently against the hard surface before them.

"What's this?" She asked. She stepped beside him and he heard her gasp as her hand ran out from under his.

"Dragon skulls." He said. She laughed excitedly and then began circling around the giant remains.

"It's humongous!" She said, her voice echoing as if it was far away. "Can I see it?"

"There's a torch around here somewhere, but I'm can't find it right now." He said.

"We need to find one!" She said, running back around the skull only to bump into the Prince and again.

Gendry reach out and grabbed her arms, steadying them both in the process. Eventually his hand found hers and when it did he lifted it and placed it back on the thick white bone of the dragon's skull.

"I'll find it," He said, "You wait here." taking off before she could argue. Though for once, she wasn't going to.

Down here, in the cold dark, damp, it didn't feel like she was in a Southron city. And mayhaps she could stay down here forever. Living in the tunnels, the dark crevices of King's Landing, only coming up for light to hunt game in the forest and go running with the wolves. She ran her hand along the skull and traced it's outskirts, placing one foot slowly in front of the other.

"House Targaryen," She said out loud, "Fire and Blood. Red and Black. Dragons." She smiled and tapped her knuckles gently against the magical creatures old bones. "House Lannister: Hear Me Roar. Crimson and gold. Lions. House Arryn: As High As Honour. Blue and white. Falcons. House Tully: Family, Duty, Honour. Red and Blue. Trouts. Stupid fish." She said, rolling her eyes. "House Stark: Winter Is Coming. White and Grey. Direwolves," With those words she couldn't surpress the smile on her lips. "House Baratheon: Ours Is the Fury. Black and gold. St-"

Her words were cut off by the sudden flame before her, and the appearance of Prince Gendry's quizzical expression.

"Stags." She finished.

"What are you doing?" He asked.

"I wasn't sure just how large this skull was so I was measuring it,"

"By houses." He finished for her. She nodded.

"And thank the gods you showed up, I was almost out." He laughed at that.

"Hundreds of houses spread out across the Seven Kingdoms and you can only name how many?" He asked.

Arya counted back in her head, "Six?"

"Oh, we can do better than that." Gendry said, smiling down at her, he walked backwards around the dragon's skull, so as to keep his eyes on her as they circled it together.

"Who are you, my septa?" Arya teased.

"Yes, don't I disguise myself well?" Gendry teased back. He made her laugh. A true, honest, loud laugh that echoed across the walls of the caverns so he could enjoy the sound of it again and again.

"Very well, if you insist," She said with a smile, "House..."

"Greyjoy." He finished for her.

"Fine. Greyjoy: We Do Not Sow. Gold and Black. Krakens." She said. "Karstark."

"The Sun of Winter" He said happily accepting her challenge. "Grey and Black. The Sunburst."

They continued this game for longer than either expected, running through every house they could think of: Manderly, Frey, Mormont, Ambrose, Tyrell, Redwyne, Trant, Martell, Reed, Mallister, Bolton, Errol, Glover, Tarth, and on and on and on.

Eventually the dim grew dim and the Houses were running thin too.

Arya stretched both hands out against the dragon's skull, imaging shining black scales instead of cool white bone.

"What I wouldn't give for a dragon of my own." She smiled, flipping around and leaning her back against it. Her eyes remained closed. If this dragon were real, she liked to pretend that right now it wasn't trapped in a dark, dingy tunnel, but pacing eagerly outside the city walls, ready to take flight. And she would be standing next to it, then on it's wing, then riding on it's back as it flew over the city, mayhaps setting fire to the Red Keep and the walls surrounding it, the ones keeping her, keeping everyone in.

When she opened her eyes she realized the Prince was staring at her, his head tilted to one side and a strange smile covering his lips. Her arms were spread out beside her, wide and stretched out perfectly straight. She turned back around and pressed her hands against the beast's bones once more. No scales to be found.

Arya whipped around and grabbed the torch from Gendry's hand then walked around to the back of the skull where there was an opening. She stepped inside and placed the flame on the ground in the centre where it caught alight to the dust and the remains of a small fire. Someone else had been here before.

"Dragons would be nice." The Prince said finally. "Still direwolves are hardly mundane. Anything's better than a stag, really. They hunt us in the summer. The lions, the bears, we're their prey." Arya paused to listen, unsure if he spoke of the animals or the people. "Direwolves are strong, and fierce. Not unlike their owners." He said, ducking his head under the jaw of the Dragon's skull to catch a peek of Arya. She looked up at him and smiled. "Is it true, your brothers found a pack of direwolves in the forest one day, and gave each one to a Stark child?"

"It's true." She said. It was fewer words than she'd ever spoken and she felt herself in the strange position of wanting to tell him everything and at the same time wanting to avoid the conversation entirely. "My brother Jon found them, with my brother Robb."

"Jon Snow?" Gendry asked. Arya went quiet.

"Yes." She said. She wanted Gendry to choose his next words very carefully because for some reason she found herself afraid of what he might say.

"Your father was telling me about him last night. He thinks we would've gotten along well but I never got the chance to meet him. He took the Black a few years ago?"

She nodded quickly, relieved that he hadn't called him a bastard, relieved that perhaps, like her, he didn't people as others saw them. "He's technically my half-brother," She admitted. "But he's my best brother." She almost told Gndry about the small sword Jon had given her, the one hidden under her bed upstairs, but it felt like a betrayal to her brother so she kept it to herself for now. "He never tried to make me behave like a lady, he loved me just like this." She sighed, "I used to feel like we were different from the others. We look different, we look like the North, and neither of us really felt like we belonged. But he's gone now, I haven't seen him in five years."

She grew silent then, consumed by this sudden feeling of loss. She pushed it down.

"Six direwolf cubs, to six Stark children. Jon has Ghost, Robb has Grey Wind, Bran has Summer, Rickon has Shaggydog, Sansa has Lady, though she... she's not there anymore."

"What happened?" He asked, leaning in on the giant teeth of the dragon so see her better in the light. She looked so small trapped inside it's jaw, illuminated by the light as if it was breathing fire right onto her, and she was staring that fire down into submission.

She walked closer to him and pressed herself against the opposite side of the teeth.

"Your stupid brother," She said through gritted teeth, "And stupid Sansa. They're were both being so... I just couldn't..." She looked up at eyes wide and fearful. Slowly she backed away from him, the heaviness of her skirts dimming the light of the fire, casting her in shadow. "It was my fault." She said. "I mean, no it wash't. It was everyone's fail, but partly mine." She continued stepping back until she stepped over the fire and landed safely on the other side. Her back touched gently against the dragon's jaw and she sank down against it until she landed on the ground. Hugging her legs in close she continued to speak. Gendry meanwhile had stepped inside the monster's mouth and was watching her intently as she shrunk before him. "What happened was this..."

And so she told him. The story he'd heard before, but only patched up versions since his family's return from Winterfell five years ago. Arya told him her version, one that had been amended over the years every time she thought back on it. She'd been so stubborn, so headstrong as her mother loved to call her. But Joffrey was an idiot, and Sansa had been so dumb and naive. She couldn't see the young prince for the creep he was. But as the years went by and Arya watched as every Stark child grew up with a wolf by their side while Sansa sat alone, she couldn't help but feel some fault. The small guilt crept up in her, for not lying for her sister to save Lady, for not being able to save Lady herself. Just the thought of losing Nymeria was enough to make Arya to crazy, like ripping away a part of her soul, the part of her that was a Stark, she couldn't bear to think that burden had passed on to Sansa. That's the version she told him, the one she'd never admitted to anyone else before.

"I think a part of her died that day." She said quietly, once her story was told. "There's this saying "there must always be a Stark in Winterfell". That's where we belong, that's where we are strongest. For us Stark children, we bonded with those wolves, to lose one, to cut that bond, would be like cutting us off from the North itself. Lady never attacked anyone, she was the best trained of all the them, but she would've protected Sansa, like Summer protected Bran, like Ghost protects Jon at the Wall, and now she's gone."

"So you'll protect her." Gendry said. Arya turned and looked at him, sitting next to her. She'd almost forgotten he was there she'd been talking for so long. She sniffled, wiped her nose in her sleeve and stared up at him.

"What?" She asked.

"Your direwolves are strong and protective, and they connect you to your home, to the North, so be that for your sister. Remind her everyday of where she comes from and guard her against anyone who tries to take that away from her. Be there for her. You're her family, you love her. Be her direwolf." She smiled sadly at his words and dropped her eyes away from his.

"Where's your direwolf?" He asked.

"I sent her away." Arya replied, her voice now a mix of shakiness and strength. "After Lady was killed I knew they might come for Nymeria next so I had to send her away. I threw rocks at her until she disappeared into the woods. I had to protect her."

Gendry nodded, "But now who protects you?"

"She'll be back one day," Arya said, half-answering his question. "I can still feel her out there. Sometimes I dream she's running through the woods. Sometimes I think I hear her howling at night. We'll find each other one day. I saved her, and someday she'll repay the favour."

"And until then, I'll watch over you for her." Gendry said. "You protect Sansa, and I'll protect you."

She couldn't look at him. She could only stare into the dying coals of the fire and rock to the side, pushing against him to show her annoyance. Why was she telling him this? How had they even started this conversation? Suddenly, she didn't want to be here anymore. Her skin itched and the dying fire felt far too warm. "Idiot." She mumbled.

He smiled, thinking it was a compliment.

"Stupid stag." She said, louder this time, pushing him harder with her hands. In the dying light, he could see her standing over him. "I don't need anyone to protect me. I can do just fine on my own. I don't need help from your princeliness, you stupid stag, you dumb blacksmith, you liar."

And then she ran, leaving him alone in the dark with the dragon skulls.


	4. Names

**AN: **Hello! Sorry for the long wait between updates... especially after I said I would try to post every two weeks. Anyway, here's a new chapter for you :)

* * *

"And where did you disappear to today?" Sansa asked as she fixed her hair in her room in the tower. Arya stormed into the room and flopped down on her sister's bed. The hem of her skirts were covered in dust from the tunnels under the Red Keep and her hair was a mess from tugging at the braids and buns that had attempted to whip it into submission.

"Nowhere important." She said wistfully.

Sansa paused a moment. Usually Arya would've stormed into the room with a glare at her sister's attempts at perfection, would've mocked her southern hairstyles, would've rubbed a handful of dirt across her skirts just to make Sansa cringe.

"Were you off with the Prince?" Sansa asked carefully. "After he told us about the tea and cakes you both vanished. I suppose I figured you must've vanished off together." Arya kept her head on the featherbed and stared up at the ceiling.

"No, I went exploring on my own. Why would I go anywhere with that dumb prince?" She said, picking at the stitching of the blankets.

"He's the future King, Arya, you shouldn't speak of him like that." Sansa said quietly, trying her best to see her sister in the mirror's reflection. "And you shouldn't break your promise to our mother like that. You told her you would try harder to-"

"I know what I said, Sansa. I don't need you to remind me." Arya groaned.

"It's just, I _do _need to remind you. We have responsibilities here, Arya. To represent our House, the North, to show everyone here that we belong here as well as they do."

"You're not representing the North. The North is nothing like this! We don't belong here!" Arya shouted, sitting up pin straight. "I don't _want_ to belong here?"

Sansa was at a loss for words, her mother and father had been very specific: Arya was not to know about the marriage. And Sansa knew that if Arya was to remain ignorant to it, she'd have to help her survive this place.

But this put Sansa in a difficult spot: on the one hand she had Joffrey. They'd gotten along so well when they'd last met. Sansa had thought of him frequently in the last five years, her handsome prince. Some memories stood out more vividly than others, and some she'd created all on her own. She'd imagined her future with Joffrey, what their children would look like, if they'd take the reign of Storm's End since Stannis Baratheon had yet to produce a male heir, or if by some strange twist of magic Joff would be named King.

That was the catch of it all. Sansa had spent years pining after her memories of Queen Cersei, the most perfect woman she'd ever beheld. She wanted that, she wanted to be that more than anything. And she could have it, if she married Prince Gendry. She'd never been able to picture the prince, he'd never shown all those years ago in Winterfell, all she had to go on was that, unlike Joffrey, he was the spitting image of King Robert, and that wasn't much for a girl to hold out hope on. But he was so much better than King Robert could ever be. He was unbelievably handsome, well-mannered, Myrcella raved about him constantly and he was well liked by the people. He would make a great king. And he could be hers. She could be his.

Then there was Arya to consider. Sansa glanced over her shoulder at her sister. There was always Arya to consider.

She wouldn't make a good queen. It was the plain fact that couldn't be avoided. She was restless, and impatient, she hated anyone who wasn't from the North, and even some of them she wasn't overly fond of. She wouldn't be a good match for Gendry. They didn't have a future together, they were incompatible at the base of it.

But Arya and Joffrey,_ that_ would be a disaster. She's not sure which would happen first: Arya killing Joffrey or Joffrey killing himself.

_I could tell her_, The thought crept up on Sansa all of a sudden, _I could tell her right now. Then the choice would be all mine._ "No." She said quietly, shaking the evil thought from her head. She stood suddenly, and looked at her sister.

"Arya," She found herself saying,

"Hmm?" Her sister said. Her eyes were closed, her fingers rubbing her temples.

"If you could go anywhere in the seven kingdoms, anywhere in the world, where would you go?"

"That's a dumb question," Arya said, finally sounding like her usual self. "I would go..." Then she couldn't find an answer. Winterfell, the Wall, those were the obvious choices. East to Essos, the Shivering Sea, the Iron Islands, Dorne, Bear Island. She wanted to go everywhere. And then she would return home. "I don't know where I'd go." She said honestly. Her thoughts drifted back to her conversation with Gendry. She could out to the woods, she was sure if she waited there long enough that Nymeria would find her. And she'd have grown big and Arya could ride on her back all across the Seven Kingdoms. "I never did go see the Wall." She wanted Jon, more than anything suddenly she had to see him.

"Mayhaps you should go," Sansa said, appalling herself with her own words. Either she was concocting some malicious plan, or else she genuinely felt for her sister. She wasn't sure which feeling burned stronger inside her. "You might never get another chance." If only she knew how true that was.

The sentence hung over them, pure silence filled the room, only the sound of the winds, and then they both turned, Sansa to her vanity mirror, Arya to her own room.

* * *

Arya paced around her room for the next hour, by the time her mother came in to check on her preparations for dinner, but of course, nothing was prepared. Her hair, still a mess, was stringy and falling in pieces around her face. Her skirts were not only covered in grime but wrinkled as well. But that wasn't what her mother noticed about her when she walked into the room. She noticed how her daughter was wringing her hands over and over, walking back and forth in front of the balcony door, like a caged animal going mad.

"Arya?" She said, the girl didn't seem to hear her. "Arya, stop this right now." Catelyn said, attempting to sound firm. Arya just looked at her nervously, eyes wide and terrified, and continued her pacing.

Cat backed slowly out of the room and went as fast as her feet could carry her up to her bed chamber. Ned sat on the bed in front of her, staring out the window at the city, he look so tired already, so worn down, and they'd only just arrived in the Capital. "Ned," She said, causing his attention to flick up. "Come quick, it's Arya." Her husband stood and brushed past her, the two of them chased down the stairs to Arya's room once more. The door was open and she was still there, pacing.

Ned gave his wife a knowing look and she nodded closing the door behind him as he entered. He walked up to his daughter and clasped her small arm in his hands. "Arya?"

She finally stopped in her tracks. "I want to see Jon." She said, like an arrow piercing his heart. "I want to see him, now. Can we go now?"

Ned was speechless. "Arya, what brought this on?"

"I haven't seen him in years. And you promised we could go visit him at the Wall and we never did. What if I never see him again?" She asked.

"Arya," Ned said slowly, "What did Sansa say to you?"

"She asked me if I wanted to go anywhere in the world, where would it be?" She said.

"And you thought of Jon?" He said.

"No, I thought of a hundred different places at once, and then I realized Jon and the Wall. He wasn't even my first thought, how awful is that? I want to go to countless different places, and he wasn't the first on my list. He should be." She decided. "He is. My first thought was that this is the last place in Westeros I'd ever want to be. I don't want to be here anymore."

"Arya, it's been two days." He reasoned.

"And that's two days too long." She looked him clear in the eye, "I need to go home."

He wanted to give that to her, more than anything, but he couldn't. "What if instead I bring a part of home here to you?" He said. "Or better yet, you stop hiding what you're hiding under your bed."

Finally, she broke a smile. And though he could barely believe it, a faint red blush crept up her cheeks.

She stood and walked to the side of her bed, pulling out the small case that held her very own sword, the one Jon had given her before he left for the Wall. She took it from it's scabbard and walked over to her father's side. She presented it to him meekly, but could barely hide her pride.

"Do you still remember everything your brothers taught you?" She nodded. "Well, perhaps you should spend tonight on your own practicing, and we'll see what tomorrow brings."

"So I don't have to go to dinner with the royal family?" She asked.

"Not tonight, Arya." He clarified. "But soon, you will. You can't avoid it forever."

She groaned and watched him leave the room, when the door clicked shut behind him she picked up her sword and started to swing.

* * *

Sansa sat down at dinner while once again, Arya was absent. Her father and mother had excused her, saying she had taken ill, the King had nodded half-heartedly and Prince Gendry had expressed his concern, but after that no more questions were asked.

It went unnoticed that Sansa too was feeling less than well. She couldn't stop herself from thinking about her conversation with Arya. She'd tried to send her sister away, indirectly of course, but that had been her intent. Deep down she couldn't ignore that fact. And now she was struck by a strange mix of guilt and the disappointment that came from knowing her plan had fallen through.

Her eyes landed on the Queen, the regal, beautiful queen with her perfect posture, her dresses and hairs so intricately designed, so polished. Her smile so demure. She could be like her. She _would _be like her.

She turned to her left, to Prince Joffrey and smiled, "I must say, your Grace, the castle is quite incredible. From what little I've seen of it so far it seems so grand and breathtaking. So much unlike anything in the North."

Joffrey looked at her a scoffed before grabbing his goblet of wine and taking a sip, "Of course it is." He said. "This is a magnificent city, grander than any to come before it."

"Have you seen many cities, my lord?" Sansa asked, desperate to make up for her first comment. She was eager to speak with the prince, to get to know both him and his brother, and to be the darling Northern girl all the Soutrhoners knew and loved. But now that she was here, her fantasies were out of reach and she was finding it harder and harder to become the girl she'd always imagined.

Joffrey's face blanched for a sliver of a moment before he contorted it into an expression of derision, "Of course I've seen many cities. I'm the royal prince of Westeros."

"Of course, you Grace." Sansa stuttered in reply, no longer sure where she'd gone so wrong.

Prince Gendry leaned forwards in his chair, he sat on the other side of Joffrey, and interrupted them. "Mayhaps, little brother, you could tell Lady Sansa some of the places you've travelled?"

Joffrey scowled at his brother but Sansa was still all nervous smiles, "I would love to hear some of your stories, Prince Joffrey."

Gendry smiled. He felt for the girl, and her patience knew no bounds.

"I wouldn't bother with stories about our travels." Joffrey said, his voice a mix of sullenness and uncertainty.

Truthfully, Gendry wasn't sure if Joffrey was capable of telling a story. He didn't converse well with people about matters that didn't revolve around him or his interests, which were unvaried and odd. Gendry could only manage a conversation with his brother under the best of times, more often than not they regarded each other cooly and with a borderline hostile civility.

He could never be sure what is what although he could warrant the obvious guess that it had something to do with the crown Gendry would one day wear, plus a little extra prodding from their mother. It was the same attitude their father took in the practice yard: a little friendly compassion, a bit of brotherly comradery, a good honest fight. Although the Queen didn't play with brute force, she played a different game, and Joffrey had always been her favourite game piece.

Still the Starks were their guests, and they would soon enough be more than that, and Gendry knew it was part of his duty to see that Joffrey didn't alienate this poor girl who would one day be his brother's wife.

"You could tell her about our trip to Storm's End, about Myrcella and Shireen's discovery out on the beaches."

Again, Joffrey could only scoff and drink from his glass. "They saw some red lights in the sky, who would care about such stupid things?"

Gendry had to hold back from laughing at his brother's obliviousness. "Well, mayhaps Lady Sansa would." He said. Joffrey said nothing, only tightened his grip around his fork before letting go and pushing his chair back. He brushed past his brother as he walked away from the table. "I apologize for my brother." Gendry said. The two of them watched as Joffrey disappeared from the Hall.

"Well, I apologize for my sister, your Grace" Sansa said, rolling her eyes.

"You really don't have to apologize for Arya, Lady Sansa." Gendry said, smiling.

"Oh, I really do." Sansa insisted. "For what she was saying yesterday, for her absence when we met you at the steps of the Keep, for the uproar she caused that night. She couldn't even come to dinner tonight to make up for it, she's unbelievable, some times I swear." Sansa's eyes widened as she heard her own words back through her ears. "Oh, I'm sorry your Grace, I didm mean to-"

"Please, you don't have to apologize for everything. Arya is Arya, I was well-informed of that before you arrived. And you don't have to apologize for yourself either." He looked around and leaned in close, unsure of who could be listening or who might appear. "You and I will be family one day, it's inevitable." He smiled and leaned back into his seat. "Might as well start acting like it now."

Sansa smiled back at him. He reached for his goblet of wine and took a quick sip before turning back to Sansa. "So where is Arya tonight?" He asked, trying to make his voice sound even.

Sansa shrugged, "She'd had a bad day, to be quite honest, she hates it here. Anyway, our father said she could stay in her room for the night."

"So how far do you think she's run?" Gendry asked, making her laugh.

"She could be halfway across Westeros by now." Sansa giggled, then her smile faded. **"**She might've actually run. I should go check on her, actually."

Gendry nodded and Sansa stood to go, her heart hurt as she stood. She finally had a chance alone with the future King and here she was, leaving him alone at the feast, to check on her sister of all people. Then, Prince Gendry stood too.

"I'll help you search." He said. "It would not be good if we lost her again."

Sansa smiled and together they made their way from the hall when a single voice, ringing out clear above the others, stopped them.

"Sansa? Where is Sansa?" She turned to look and found the Queen perched in her chair, her eyes scanning the hall for the young Stark girl.

She turned back to the Prince, "You should go," He said. "In my experience it's best not to make her call your name a third time."

Sansa wavered, her mind stuck between the two decisions.

The Prince nodded his head back to the noise of the Hall, "Go," He said. "I'll go find Arya."

Sansa beamed up at him before scurrying back to the tall table at the front of the room. Her skirts were in a flurry around her ankles and her hands flew to fix her hair as she approached closer.

"Ah, Sansa, there you are." Queen Cersei said as Sansa stood breathlessly before her. "Come have a seat. My daughter was just telling me all about the afternoon you two spent together, I'd love for you to regale me with more stories of the North, as you've done for her."

Sansa accepted the seat next to Princess Myrcella and began to speak, checking over her shoulder one last time with a smile to see if the Prince was still at the door to the Hall. She searched for only a moment, letting her smile falter slightly, before turning back to the Queen and sharing her tale. Prince Gendry was already long gone.

* * *

It was late in the godswood when Arya finally started to feel tired. She left her room hours ago, practicing her swordplay had suddenly made the space seem so small and she'd already made a few slashes in the castle's stone walls from some over eager swings.

But out here, the air was clear and crisp, and there was endless amounts of space. And she wasn't alone out here, every tree was a challenger, every shadow an enemy waiting to be torn down. And when the wind rose up, they were ready to fight, and she was ready to fight back.

With every swing her arms felt weaker but her spirit gained strength. This is what she missed, the power that came with holding a sword. The might she felt, small as she was, when she made the tree bark splinter with her blade. She cornered in on the enemy, a small, crumpled tree in the far corner of the wood. She pretended she was Queen Nymeria conquering Dorne. She pretended she was fighting in the War of the Seven Kingdoms. She pretended she was her father, wielding Ice against those who fled their duties at the Wall.

She swung, and stopped short. Suddenly, Jon was in front of her. Jon with his raggedy black hair, Ghost was at his side, his clothes were all black like all other men of the Watch. Her breath hitched as she realized this was the last time she would see him, this little recollection here, because soon she would forget. She could feel herself forgetting already, and she hated herself for it. Had his hair always been that short? Was that how it had looked last time she'd seen him?

She shook her head and he was gone. Needle was pointed high in the air, her arms were taut and straight.

"I knew I'd find you here."

She swung around, her arms still straight as pins, and found Prince Gendry at the other end of her sword. His eyes widened and he held his hands up in front of him,

"I surrender." He said jokingly. Her arms relaxed, but only slightly. "You weren't at the feast." A statement, not a question.

"I wasn't feeling well.' She said.

Needle fell to the dirt with a small, hollow clatter and Arya crumbled with it. She wasn't crying, Arya Stark didn't cry. Instead her fingers began eagerly attacking her hair, to pull it from the semblance of a bun she'd compiled it into when she'd begun training. She threw the leather tie on the ground and let her shoulders slump forward.

"I'm sorry about earlier," She ran her fingers along the dirt as she spoke. "I shouldn't have called you a liar."

Gendry smiled down at her, thinking how she was still so young in some ways, and how neither of them was ready for what they had to face.

"That's fine. I suppose in some ways I deserved it." He said, sitting nearby, wanting to give her space. He placed his hand gingerly over the sword and waited for her nod of approval. When she gave it, he picked it up and balanced it in his hand.

"This is beautiful work." He said.

"My brother Jon had it made for me, before he left for the Wall." She explained, though she didn't offer more than that. She still felt a stab of pain in her heart at the mention of Jon.

"It's perfect for someone your size." He added, flipping the blade by the handle and offering it back to her. She accepted and placed it carefully on the ground between them again, like a line in the sand. "Dinner's over." He said. "But there'll be leftovers in the kitchens soon, if you're hungry."

She shook her head though she was quite hungry. She was also dead tired, and sweating all over from practicing for so long. She wanted nothing more in that moment than to fall asleep right there in the cool dew of the godswood. So she lay down in the dirt and the grass with Needle by her side and turned to look at Gendry.

"Tell me something." she said simply. She wasn't sure whether she wanted a story, one about the old Kings and Queens who conquered the land, or for him to tell her something about himself, she just wanted a voice.

"Okay," He said, running his fingers absentmindedly along the blade until it reached the part where it met the hem of her cloak. "One day, I was out exploring the castle. And I found a hidden passageway, nothing too fancy, it led out to the Street of Steel."

"Out behind the stables," Arya said as her eyes drifted shut. "Between the servant's entrance and the hay bales."

He smiled and shook his head. "Exactly." _Of course she already knows,_ he thought. It had taken him twelve years to find that spot, and she'd found it in two days. "So I ran out of the castle for the day. And I ended up in Tobho Mott's shop. I remember thinking how warm it was in there. The Red Keep has always felt so cold to me. I'm not sure how they manage it."

"Winterfell's built over a hot spring." Arya said absentmindedly, her eyes fluttering shut. "Stays warm all winter."

He smiled and nodded. "Well the same cannot be said for this castle."

"So what did you do?" She asked.

"I stayed there for four days." He said.

Arya's eyes opened wide, "What?!"

"I went inside and Tobho asked me if I was the new apprentice, I lied and said I was. He was new to the city, he didn't know who I was or what Prince Gendry looked like. And I was a boy of eleven who didn't want to be stuck inside a castle all day. I tell you, when the real apprentice showed up, he was this tiny little ratlike boy, just as skinny as me, but I was a little taller, I just started swinging Tobho's hammer at him til he went running down the street. Told Tobho he was thief I'd chased away, he loved me after that."

"So what happened next?" Arya asked. "Surely _someone _noticed you were gone?"

"Not a one." He replied. "I returned that night, thinking selfishly, ridiculously that the whole Keep would be in an uproar."

"And?" She asked, propping herself up on her elbows, suddenly fully awake.

"And no one had noticed I was gone. Not too surprising I suppose, I was just a kid at the time. All I'd missed was a day's lessons, fighting practice, and the like. Apparently the queen had made my excuses for me, saying I was sick and whatnot. I came back and every kept asking 'Oh are you feeling better, Prince Gendry?' or 'Good to see you back on your feet, your Grace.' and I was so confused. Then at dinner my father hadn't even noticed I was gone, my mother didn't ask me what I'd done that day. Everyone just carried on with their lives. So I left again after the feast and I didn't come back. After a couple of hours I got back to Tobho Mott's shop, he yelled at me for hours, threw me around a bit too. _He _noticed I was gone."

"That's terrible." Arya said.

"No, it was... good. I worked for him for three days, and I learned a lot, was humbled a lot. Then the Gold Cloaks showed up, they'd started searching for me that morning and found me that night. Poor old Mott didn't know what was going on, he had no idea who I really was. I thought they were going to beat him within an inch of his life."

"What happened?" Arta asked, leaning in closer.

"I stepped in the middle of them, grabbed one of my half finished swords and started swinging at the guards. Told them everything. They brought me to my father and he just laughed. Picture it, him sitting up on his Iron Throne, me, this kid with shackles around his wrists standing in front of him with three Gold Cloaks on either side."

"And what did you do?"

"I told him everything too." He said. "That I'd left, that no one, not even him, had noticed I was gone. And that I'd had more fun, learned more, done more in that shop that I'd accomplished during years stuck in the Keep."

Arya laughed, "And what did he say to that?"

"He laughed. The next day he brought Tobho Mott into the Keep, named him the King's Blacksmith, and then he made me his apprentice. I've been training with him for years now. I'm quite good, if I do say so myself. Though this," He picked up Needle and examined it again. "This is something pretty special." He handed the sword back to her and she accepted it tentatively.

"Thank you." She said.

Earlier today she'd wanted nothing more than to run, to run away from him. He was so close to her, and she'd said so much. Thinking back over the conversation in her head she still couldn't remember just what exactly had compelled her to say all those things. Normally she didn't like talking, or listening. She'd said so much in the caves and then she'd taken off. Now sitting in the godswood, hearing Gendry's stories, sitting with him, she didn't want to go off again.

His hand was warm when she took her sword from it.

"So what are you doing out here? Dinner may be over but the Feast will go on till morning."

"Your sister was worried about you," He said. "I told her I'd come find you."

"Of course she was." Arya muttered.

Sansa had probably spent the whole night complaining about her absence to Gendry, Sitting next to him, telling him about how Arya was too unladylike to sit through a proper meal, and how she never could behave right. And she'd ask him to tell her stories, but not about his days as a blacksmith, no, Sansa would be more interested in how Gendry helped King Robert handle matters of the Kingdom, the problems he himself would one day deal with when he sat on the Iron Throne. She'd ask about all the great Houses he'd met throughout the years, all the fancy parties and important guests who'd strode through the same halls they lived in now. She'd pester him with questions and bat her long eyelashes in that stupid way and let her arm rest just inches from his as they talked and talked and talked. The idea of the whole thing made Arya's stomach churn.

"So, how long did it take you to track me down?" She asked, pulling herself from the thoughts that made her queasy.

"This was the first place I checked." He shrugged.

"Really?" She asked.

"Truly." He answered. "I had a hunch about where you'd be, though I didn't expect you to be armed. I suppose I should've, your father did warn me." He said, remembering his conversation with Lord Stark the night before.

Arya's eyebrows crinkled in confusion but she shrugged it away. "Well, congratulation, you've found me." She said, standing up and smiling at the dirt rubbed in to her breeches. "And now, I think I'll go to my room. I've been down here for hours, practicing, I'm so tired." She said, as a yawn escaped her lips.

"I'll walk you up." Prince Gendry offered, rising from the ground and offering Arya a hand.

The Stark girl either didn't notice it or chose to ignore it as she lifted herself and her sword from the ground and strode right past him out of the godswood, insisting that she could walk herself.

She stopped at the entrance and turned around, "You were a terrible liar, by the way." She began. "You should really work on that." Gendry watched her, her hands fidgeting with her sword, her eyes glued to the ground in front of her. "You could practice next time I get stuck with the other girls doing their needlework. You come up with a good lie to get me out of there and we could explore again like we did today." She looked up at him.

"I could do that." He said. "I suppose I could use the practice." He smiled, feeling a small sense of accomplishment. "If you'd like."

She laughed and relaxed a little, "Anything would be better than an afternoon of tea and lemon cakes."

"That would be too cruel a fate." He said.

Arya laughed and nodded, unsure of what to do next, "Alright, well, goodnight." She said, taking off immediately.

"Goodnight." Gendry said to no one. He smiled at no one, and laughed at no one. Then he turned to the Heart Tree to the small remnants of black sot handprints left on it's bark. One small, one large. He shook his head and left, walking to his own chambers. And the Godswood was still.

* * *

**AN:**

Please review and let me know what you think!

And if anyone knows the answer to this question: A King is called "your Grace", what is a prince referred to as (Is it just "my lord"?)?


	5. Doorways

**AN: **Thanks so much for answering my question about Gendry's title you guys! Little continuity bits like that are really important to me which is why it's been taking so long between updates. So thank you!

I like the response from MidnightAuroraWolf of calling the crowned prince "Your grace" and his brothers "Your highness" (And Myrcella too I suppose?) so that's what I'll be sticking with from now on.

Thanks again and enjoy!

* * *

The next day, the two Stark girls were summoned to lunch with the queen. While they prepared, Catelyn sat by and admired the differences in her two daughters.

Sansa sat at her table, combing her hair lovingly and braiding it into delicate little, bright red strands. She was a perfectionist, and loved to find the beauty in things. Sansa was quiet, and loving and obedient. The thought of lunch with the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms was an exciting prospect in her mind.

And then, there was Arya. Arya who's tough brown hair defied Catelyn's brush and sat happily only when it was free but could occasionally submit to a simply braid lining the girl's slender back. Her eyes could only roll at the prospect of a proper lunch without the discussion of swords or battles or bruises from the practice yard.

Catelyn tugged tightly on Arya's hair as she finished off her long brown braid. Arya whimpered slightly and smiled up at her mother, and Cat couldn't help but smile in return. She leant down over Arya's shoulder and spoke in her ear as she wound a strong piece of brown leather around the tip of the braid.

"You're going to behave yourself at lunch, hmm?" She said, tugging lightly on her hair. "You're going to smile, and curtsy, and you will be respectful towards the queen and whoever else she has invited to dine with you?" Cat knew the importance of this moment; that this was her first meeting with her future good-mother.

"Do I have to go?" Arya sighed.

Cat sighed in return, "Yes, Arya, you have to go. You should be pleased to be invited."

Arya's face scrunched up and contorted itself. "Why?" She asked, as if it was the most outrageous suggestion aver.

It was Sansa, from her poised perch a few feet away, who answered, "Because she's the queen of the seven kingdoms. She could have lunch with anyone, she could invite anyone to stay in her home and eat at her feasts and join her for tea and she chose us."

"I didn't chose her." Arya mumbled. Catelyn tied her hair and stepped back with a smile.

"Then you're an idiot." Sansa mumbled back.

Arya couldn't help but laugh at that. Then her thin fingers moved up to the crown of her hair and shook a few strands lose, causing Sansa to cringe and Catelyn to sigh loudly again and start the process over.

* * *

"Is it really just us two going to meet her?" Sansa asked as Cat walked them closer to the Queen's private quarters.

"I was not invited, and to my understanding Princess Myrcella is in her lessons until later this afternoon. It's just you two and the Queen."

Aray's hands reached under her skirts as she tried to scratch the itchy fabric and straighten out the breeches she'd hidden underneath.

"Why?" She asked, her nose scrunching unpleasantly. "What do we matter?" Her question was ignored.

They reached the outside and room and Catelyn wished them luck, though Arya couldn't understand all the fuss. What was the worst she could do? Choke on a lemon cake and embarrass Sansa? Forget to curtsy a third time in the presence of the great and majestical Queen?

As she stood there, with her sister, she stared at the tall doors before her. There was a scene etched into them: a forest full of lush plants with a pair of stags on one side and pair of lions on the other. The lions looked about ready to pounce.

"Please don't embarrass yourself." Sansa whispered, her eyes trained straight ahead.

Arya turned to look at her, "It'll be fine. You worry too much."

Sansa was silent, then she straightened her shoulder even more and glanced down at her sister, "And don't embarrass me either. You may not want to be here, but _I _do."

The doors cracked open and she could see Queen Cersei sitting at a table in front of them, waiting expectantly.

Suddenly, Arya felt a cold chill run through the room, though the curtains didn't shake with the wind. Gendry's words rang through her head, this castle was a cold, cold place.

* * *

Arya glanced around impatiently. She was feeling anxious already and they'd only made it through the first course, with two more making the painstakingly slow trek up from the Kitchens to Cersei's private rooms in the tower. She already felt she'd memorized every detail of the room, from the view out the window to the mountain of cushions lining the corner wall that she was sure no one had ever used.

She knew that Sansa was hiccuping constantly with nerves and that when she spoke her voice came out too hurried. The Queen could probably sense Sansa's nerves as easily as Arya; and whenever Sansa spoke Cersei would place her fingers on some small place on the table, usually her wine goblet, and shift it a few inches back and forth, setting it slightly out of place before correcting it immediately. Her thin fingers stayed on the stem of her glass with a deceptively soft grip.

Aside from a few forced courtesies, Arya had yet to speak. It wasn't like anyone seemed to mind. Sansa was the one who mattered here, she was the darling little Stark girl, she was the betrothed, she was the one who wanted to be sitting here, at this table, gushing over every demure breath the Queen condescending to take. And all Arya wanted was-

"And what about you, Arya?" The Queen asked.

Arya's eyes snapped up from the place settings and flickered instead between Cersei's green eyes to Sansa's frightened blue ones.

The problem was plain before them: Arya hadn't been listening. She'd been off, once again, in her own world. What bothered her now was that The Queen knew this, and yet had chosen to bring it to all their attention. Her own mother might've called her named until she snapped back to attention and then sighed. Her father would've let her keep on dreaming. But not Queen Cersei. And why? Just because she wore a crown and she could? Because she had the power to-

The Queen smiled. "I remember being your age." She said it almost gently. "You must wish you could be just about anywhere else in the world right now."

Arya smiled and let her eyes flicker over to Sansa once more, her poor sister was pale white and her mouth hung wide open in shock as Arya nodded an eager response.

"Come here." Cersei said, standing up and leading her over to the balcony. "You'd rather be out there," She said, gesturing to King's Landing. Arya almost replied with the truth, but for once thought it better to remain silent. "Practicing in the yard, exploring the city, climbing it's walls." Cersei smiled to herself.

While Arya looked out over the city, the fire in her belly igniting and making her eager to run, Cersei watched. She already knew a little about the younger Stark girl before her arrival, most of which could be confirmed on sight: She was wild, unruly, and bore a certain resemblance, in a sentimental mind, to another Stark girl from years past. Though that wasn't the only face from the past she reminded her of. And it filled her with a strange mix of nostalgia and bitter resentment that this girl could stand before her so hopeful, and that she would get what she wanted. In fact, that it would be Cersei herself that would give it to her.

"Go." She said. Arya couldn't believe what she said until Queen Cersei placed her hands on her shoulders and repeated herself. "Go. You want to be here about as much as I do, and you've put in enough of an appearance for now." With a little push she sent Arya off towards the door.

She did her best to ignore the look of shock on her sister's face as she happily made her way to the door. She was stopped as her hand hovered over the handle. "We'll see you tonight at the banquet of course." Arya turned around and managed her best smile, it fell short as usual. But the Queen wasn't looking. Her eyes were already trained back on Sansa. Her hand was already wrapped around the stem of her glass. "Until then, your sister and I have some matters to discuss."

* * *

Arya ran down the halls as and hummed down the halls of the Red Keep. It was there that she ran into Gendry.

"Where are you going so fast?" He smiled as Arya skidded to a halt around him.

"I was released early from lunch early. The Queen just let me leave." She smiled.

Gendry nodded, "Well, that either means you did something very wrong or very, very right."

Arya shrugged her shoulders as they continued to walk down the corridor, "I don't think I care which it is." She said. The sun was warm and shining, the day was still just beginning. She wanted to get out there before someone realized she had yet to be wrangled in. "Let's go somewhere." She said to him. "Show me somewhere else, somewhere new."

She noticed how Gendry's smile grew. "Alright," He said. "I've got a good place, come on."

He led her back to the Great Hall, where they'd gone on their way to the Dragon Skulls, down the same dark, winding staircase to the tunnels underneath the Keep.

"I wanted to go somewhere new." Arya complained.

She felt Gendry turn to her in the darkness, though she couldn't see his face she could hear a smirk on his lips, "Have a little faith, we'll get there in a little while. It's a bit of a hike, but it's worth it."

* * *

The light hurt her eyes once she got outside. They'd been walking blindly through the tunnels for what felt like hours. Gendry was a few paces behind her and crashed right into her back, quickly mumbling an apology.

"Stupid Stag." She said. This time the name came with a smile.

"Alright," Arya admitted as she stared out at the Red Keep, it seemed like it was miles and miles away. If she lifted up to fingers she could fit it right in between and crush it in her mighty claw. Out here, wherever here was, between the sea shore and the forest, everything felt cool. It was not an overheated wasteland like the city often felt. The air smelt fresh and clean, the colours were vibrant greens and pale blues. It was another world, it was like she was somewhere else entirely, like she had escaped. "This is pretty incredible."

"What was that?" Gendry asked.

"You heard me just fine." She grumbled. She climbed along the beach as Gendry perched himself on a large rock to watch her as she slipped off her muddy old boots and waded in, regretting the skirts she wore and weight they added as they fell into the water.

When she caught him staring she rolled her eyes and kicked some water at him.

She closed her eyes and let the sound of the water rush over her ears the same way it was now running through her toes. A child ran down her spine.

"You really want to be a blacksmith?" She asked, recalling their conversation in the godswood. Though the Red Keep was far away now, it didn't make it any easier to ignore the imposing nature of the castle. It hung over the city, it caught the eye from miles away and reminded everyone that inside sat the King of the Seven Kingdoms. And one day, it would seat Gendry.

"Yes. Though I know how unrealistic it is." He said, staring gultily at his hands as he spoke. "It's just that, I've seen my father's life, I've heard what people have to say about him and about his family. I don't want that. That's not me."

"I thought you loved your city? And your _kingdom_?" She asked, emphasizing the word and all the stupidity that surrounded it in her mind.

"I do. I really do." Gendry said. "But being King is so much more than that. It's politics. Conniving, evil, bullheaded politics. The people in there," He said, gesturing to the Keep, "They're crazy. My father, he ignores it all, or maybe he's just ignorant to it, I don't know. But if I wanted to do what he does, to be King, I'd have to be like him, or like them, and neither option is great."

"But it's what they want you to be?" She asked.

"Yeah, _they _do." He scoffed. "Them."

"And they want me to be a lady." She complained.

"You are a lady." Gendry said dumbly. The words left his lips and a pebble smacked against his head. "Ow!" He shouted.

"And you're the son of a king but you don't hear me bothering you about it." She shouted.

Gendry laughed and rubbed his head. "Actually that's exactly what I hear you doing. They want you to be a _proper _lady, you mean?" He clarified.

"Yeah. With long flowing skirts, and perfect posture and no personality." She said, lifting her skirts slightly as she spoke and letting the water splash in tendrils onto the sand.

"Best of luck to them." Gendry said, "You're a force to be reckoned with, that much I'm sure of."

"Thank you." Arya said, her head was ducked away but he could detect a hint of a smile. "I like to forget they exist." She whispered quietly. "As they are now. I like to remember how it used to be. I remember this time when I was young, my brother Robb used to call me a Young Pup, and he and Jon would let me follow them around the godswood while they played at hunting like my father's guardsmen. And back then mother and Sansa used to just laugh at me when I'd pretend I was a boy, and get my dresses caked in mud. Then I started getting older. They ruin everything."

Gendry nodded, "I used to come out here a lot too, also too often." He said. "They started noticing. But I miss it out here. From out here they can barely get to you."

They spent hours out there. Either rarely uttered a word. Arya played in the sand, letting it coat every inch of her wet skin. Eventually she was able to coax Gendry into the waves and dunk his head under completely. Then she lay out on the rock to dry off, to sleep in the sun like a cat, while he walked up and down the shore, pacing endlessly.

Arya smiled and twisted her head towards the sun in its new position in the sky, "I think I love it out here." She said out loud. Too loud. Her cheeks were blushing red when she turned and looked at Gendry and he was just nodding at her, a look of appreciation on his face.

"You'll love this too then." He said, nodding for her to follow before walking over to the edge of the forest. Arya tied her boots together and slung them over her shoulder, letting blades of cool grass stick to her wet feet as she followed. They walked through the woods until they reached a clearing. Then Gendry reached into the hollow of an old oak tree and pulled out a bow and quiver of arrows.

"You ever learn to shoot?" He asked as he fidgeting with the worn down string.

"A little." Arya said, taking it from his hands and puling the string around the bow till it was taut. "My brothers taught me," She pulled an arrow from the quiver and drew it in the bow, holding it tightly, as if ready to let it go, to let fly right over the trees. The she let her arm relax and passed it back to Gendry, a wicked smile on her face. "But I could always use the practice."

* * *

They returned later than they should have, earning a few suspicious glances from the stable hands, and those working late in kitchens, as they climbed back up to the hall.

There were voices echoing down the stairs as they climbed up and Arya heard Gendry curse under his breath. He went silent as they walked through the hall side by side. They found Lancel Lannister, drinking with two of his friends, and laughing hysterically at some joke unknown to the two of them. Their laughter slowly quelled and when they saw Gendry they nodded stiffly.

"Evening, your grace." They all said into their cups.

And they could've walked by with just that, if only Arya hadn't caught their attention.

"Well, well, well," One of the men said, getting up from the table "Could this be the famed, missing Stark girl?"

Another stumbled over drunkenly over to them.

"We thought you got swooped up by a Targaryen." Lancel joked. He seemed to be the only one who wasn't too deep in his cups. Arya looked up at him and found a cocky smirk on his face. He looked so young, and sickeningly pretty and it made her laugh to look at him and picture him trying to survive a winter in the North. His skin was smooth and pale but hers was tough as the seven hells.

"Nah," One of his companions said "This can't be the missing Stark girl. One the Northern girls was telling me about her." He leaned in real close to Arya. "They got a real special name for you, don't they?" He snarled.

Arya leaned away from him and grimaced, smelling the stench of wine on his breath.

"Come on." Gendry said, pushing past his Lannister cousin.

The end of the hall was only feet away when one words stopped them in their tracks.

"Horseface!"

Arya cursed under her breath. When she turned around Lancel had a smirk on his face as his friends were jumping excitedly around him.

"That's it!" One of them shouted. "Arya Horseface."

"And Underfoot." Lancel added, his eyes stayed glued to Gendry's back.

"Yeah, Underfoot, that one's good too."

"Playing around with the consolation prize?" Lancel asked Gendry, laughing at the look of confusion on Arya's face. She looked to Gendry, hoping for some kind of explanation, but his eyes were trained on the ground, black and small. Lancel failed to notice this and continued to taunt him. "You're no different than your father," Gendry's fingers wound into fists as Lancel sized up Arya. "Although I suppose she'd do, the castle's caves do get rather dark at night."

He turned to join in his friend's laughter and Arya contemplated taking the opportunity to kick him to the ground, rip her small knife from her boot and remind him that it was perfectly light up here, and she'd have no trouble slicing off his pretty blonde curls.

But her daydream was interrupted by Gendry, charging forward.

Arya hadn't so much as reached out to stop him before she heard the cracking sound of bones meeting and found the other two boys passed out on the floor of the hall. Gendry grabbed Lancel by the collar and walked him backwards, the young Lannister's feet danced in the air until his back met one of the pillars and his future king hoisted him higher.

"You think you're funny?" Gendry asked as Lancel squirmed and whimpered against the wall. "You think you're being clever, Lannister, picking on a lady? Our guest, the possible fut-" He stopped himself and dropped Lancel to the floor with a thud. "Don't ever talk to her again." He said.

"Or what?"

"Or next time we train in the practice yard my hammer might just slip when you call mercy." Gendry replied.

"Is that a threat?" Lancel asked, his confidence slowly careening around now that he was out of Gendry's grip.

"I don't need to threaten you, Lancel. I don't fear you." The prince leaned over him and grabbed his collar again. "But you should be very afraid, and I'll remind you of that from time to time, if need be." The he pulled his fist back and landed two quick punches to his jaw. With the strings of his long hair splayed over his eyes, he quickly resembled the Lannister sigil: crimson and gold.

Gendry spun around, grabbed Arya's hand, and stomped out of the room.

Once they were out in the night air, Arya pulled her hand away but continued to follow him.

"Gendry!" She shouted after him. He wasn't listening. "Gendry! Gendry, I'm talking to you!"

They both stopped when they saw Tyrion Lannister, perched on the steps leading down to the yard with a book clasped in his hand.

Arya hadn't seen the youngest son of Tywin Lannister. He'd failed to appear with the Lannisters the day they'd arrived in Winterfell and he'd remained evasive for the rest of the trip, never appearing before her siblings, except Jon, when he'd up and decided to take a trip to the Wall. She was surprised to find that now she, as a girl of only ten and four, stood taller than the dwarf. Although she felt foolish for feeling so. They did call him the Imp after all.

He waddled over to her and Gendry. "My oh my, nephew, how impolite of you to stomp away and ignore young Lady Stark when she's calling after you." He said calmly.

Arya could see that Gendry was still fuming but he kept his eyes cast low to the ground as he replied to his uncle.

"I wouldn't... I didn't mean to..." He sighed. Then he lifted his eyes a small bit higher to meet his uncle's. "I was just escorting Lady Arya to her room."

Tyrion nodded and turned to face her.

"It is a pleasure to finally meet you, my lady." He said, offering her a small bow. Arya did her best to reciprocate the gesture but she herself was feeling angry and tired and as restless as Gendry. "You gave us quite the scare when you didn't appear with your family on the steps of the Red Keep."

"As did you." She replied, earning herself a cocked eyebrow and confused look from Tyrion. "When you didn't show up in Winterfell five years ago." He chuckled as he realized what she was referring to.

"Ah yes, I'm afraid, much like my young nephew here, I found myself confined to my bed on that day." He said. Gendry scoffed.

"_I _was deathly ill, uncle. I highly doubt that was your excuse." Gendry said, a hint of his usual smirk on his lips. Tyrion smiled at him.

"No, another type of sickness, I'm afraid." He said slyly, then he cleared his throat and straightened his short stance. "Now, take the young Lady Stark to the guest tower, I'm sure her father's already sent out his guards to be on the lookout, after her last daring escape."

The Imp offered another, awkward bow before walking away from the two of them. And then with a nod from Gendry, they took off in the opposite direction, at a much slower pace. He still wouldn't look at her though, they walked in silence, until they turned the corner. Then, reluctantly, he spoke.

"I'm sorry about-" But Gendry wasn't given the chance to finish his apology because the tip of Arya's elbow quickly came into contact with his stomach and he felt himself double over.

"Stupid stag." She said, walking on ahead of him. "I don't need you defending me."

Gendry laughed and straightened up. "Sorry my lady, only thought I was helping." He said, leaning a hand onto the nearby red brick wall, still attempting to regain his breath.

"Well I don't need you help." She huffed.

"Apologies, my lady." Gendry said with a smile, goading her on purpose. When he felt the first of her small punches landing on his chest he knew he'd succeeded.

"Do. Not. Call. Me. My. Lady." She said. Gendry laughed then reached out and grabbed her fists, holding them in his large, warm hands.

"What should I call you then?" He asked leaning in close to look her in the eye. He could see how it took no more than a second for her to go from being angry to completely caught off guard, and straight back to angry a moment later. She ripped her hands away and continued walking down the hall.

"Arya, or Arry... nothing else." She said.

"And what do _they_ call you?" He asked behind her.

"You heard Lancel." She said.

"Arya Horseface, Arya Underfoot?" He asked, running to catch up to her.

She kept her head up and her eyes forward as she answered.

"It was Sansa's friend Jeyne who started it. When I was young. She thought she was terribly clever." She said, rolling her eyes. Then she stopped and swiveled to face him.

"I don't need to you to defend me. Put a sword in my hand and I can do it myself." She said.

"So why didn't you?" He asked She scoffed at him and continued walking.

"I'm not willing to waste my strength on another Lannister." She said.

"Another?" Gendry asked. The smirk returned once more. "So it's true then? You beat my brother senseless when he was in Winterfell?"

"Hardly." Arya said, rolling her eyes. "Joffrey has a gift for dramatic exaggeration."

Gendry nodded, "That he does." He said. He laughed at how she'd left the title off his brother's name. "You're incredible." He said it so candidly but she noticed. And then she stopped and turned around.

"Excuse me?" She said, not waiting for him to answer. "I'm not. I'm really not. That day, Nymeria, she attacked Joffrey. I had nothing to do with it."

"That's not why I said it." He stated simply. Truthfully, there were more reasons than he could count.

"I don't care why you said it." She said, her face was stern and her cheeks were red and cold.

"I know." Gendry said. They turned the corner while Arya bit her lip like she was trying to solve a complicated puzzle.

"Good." Was the word she settled on finally.

Gendry smiled and nodded, "I had a good day. I hope yours got better."

"It was good." She said.

"Good." He smiled.

"...Good." She echoed uncertainly, the smile slowly falling from her face.

She disappeared up the stairwell to her rooms. Gendry smiled to himself the whole way back to his.

* * *

**AN: **Sorry for so long between updates!

Please review and let me know what you think of the chapter (or perhaps your thoughts on tonight's episode).


End file.
